crappy valentine's day
Monday, Feb. 14, 2005,

Mondays are not usually so shitty--it feels like Tuesday around here:

I got up this morning and found that sometime over the weekend, Spouse had unplugged the coffeepot and forgotten to tell me. He reset the clock, but not the timer, which had defaulted back to midnight.

If anyone had dropped by about 12:05 this morning, I apparently would have been able to offer them a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

It was the last of the Trader Joe's Sumatran. Stewed, cold (the hot plate shuts itself off after two hours), and fit only to be poured down the drain. So, when I should have been in the shower this morning, I was grinding beans (I had some Swiss Chocolate Almond left) and setting up the coffeemaker. Again.

What else? Oh--the dog threw up. She has an upset stomach from the rawhide binge she was on yesterday. My bad, I suppose. I should have taken it away from her. She decided to spew all over the living room rug about the time I finished dressing this morning. Spouse cleaned it up, but I'll have to shampoo tonight as his housekeeping skills are so woefully deficient.

And it's raining. Which makes me feel like physical and emotional crap. I try to tell myself that it's better than snow, but I hate rain and snow, so that is kind of hard. Ahh--the one-two punch of weather that makes my arthritis flare and depresses me too.

And when I signed on to read The Bleat, more bad news. Jasper, the wonder dog of the Internet, is ailing. His hips are giving him trouble, poor fellow. And you can tell that it's eating Lileks up. As a dog owner, I feel for both of them.

Finally, I'll broach the subject of the date. I don't particularly care for St. Valentine's Day anymore...I've spent over twenty years with a man who does not observe it--considers it, in fact, a "Hallmark Holiday".

Which has always driven me buggy, seeing as how he celebrates "Sweetest Day", which was invented by a candy manufacturer.

Anyway. I really don't feel anything but disappointed on Valentine's Day, so I really don't look forward to it much.

And then there's the allergy problem. Flowers--especially ROSES--make me wheeze. And half the selfish, high-maintenance bitches in my company have got their menfolk trained to send them roses at work for Valentine's Day. I've been wheezing like a busted bellows all friggin' day thanks to them. There were no fewer than five large bouquets delivered between my bay and the one next to it, and I don't have an inhaler at work.

It's funny, but being wheezy and sniffly and congested just doesn't make me feel romantic.

Speaking of last week's chiro, I've been doing the neck stretching and the tennis ball traction, and it really seems to be helping my neck and shoulders stay loose. I still have times where I lock up, but I've been able to self-correct those problems so far.

This is one of our Sunday "twofers", where you cook something fairly involved and/or expensive on Sunday, but then there's enough to have again Monday, with practically no additional work.

So tonight, it's reheat, whip up more salad, and pop more garlic toast into the oven. Easy-peasy-onetwothreesy . YAY!

Spouse made breakfast on Sunday as well as on Saturday (pancakes and sausage this time) and it was very good. If you like that sort of thing. I hate breakfast--food sickens me till late morning--and it's really hard to face that. But if I said anything at all, he'd be crushed. And I don't want to hurt his feelings.

I give as much of it to Raji as I can, but she doesn't need to be eating it either.

Another of the difficulties he presents me with his breakfasts is this: My diet doesn't include breakfast. If I eat breakfast, I can't have lunch. My diet includes lunch. Food doesn't disgust me at lunch--I'm actually hungry then. BUT... If I eat breakfast, I can't have lunch. And when once I get hungry, it makes for a hell of a long day. And I end up eating too much.

It just throws off my whole balance for the day, and it feels like sabotage times ten.

And I end up hating him for it.

I also sat down and (somewhat) painstakingly figured out what I had sunk into them(including shipping and tax). It came out to $27.16 for both, so I just split it down the middle and called it $13.58 apiece.

I brought them in and showed them to the client this morning, and she loved them. In fact, she had ordered them for gifts, but now she wants to keep one of them for herself (cocktail charm). I priced them out at $25 per, and she didn't bat an eye. She's actually insistent that I mark them up, too. She wants to make sure she's paying me for my work.

I don't like to sell my beading to other people , and on the rare occasions when I do, I usually just charge for materials. Beading is something I do because I enjoy it, so I don't charge for my time. But this person was adamant, so frug it. I'll take it!

The beading fun didn't stop with the anklets. I spent quite a while yesterday working on a ladder-stitch choker. Similar to the garnet/marcasite looking one I did last fall, but a little more complex in design. I've got AB finish lanterns and softened cubes, and #11 seed beads in a very pale pink AB finish. For the pattern, I'm alternating them 1/1, but with a straight seed-bead stitch between. It will be very low-key, but it looks like it's made out of soap bubbles, so I love it. One on one, the pale pink tone of the seeds almost disappears, and they appear to match the larger beads.

Speaking of that garnet/marcasite looking one, I wore it to the bead store on Saturday, and I got tons of compliments. Everybody going for my throat was beginning to make me paranoid, though. That's the problem with the "beader's handshake", when you happen to have on a choker.

I did remember to take my Naprosyn before bed last night, so my hands didn't go off in the night like a fire siren of pain.

27.00 minutes

1.43 miles

188 calories

My lungs feel congested and wheezy today, so I didn't want to make myself feel sick--just did the best I could.
And I find that now I'm doing lots of arm movement, I can't go as far, as fast. So my calories may well be better than the treadmill considers. Or am I just making excuses?